


Grin and Bear It

by sweetasmaple



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Baz takes care of Simon, Bottom Simon, First Kiss, First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Pixie Hexes, Smut, Top Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27543682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetasmaple/pseuds/sweetasmaple
Summary: I’m glad the room is dark, and that Snow is tucked safely into his bed, away from me. Because I’m sure I’m flushing beet red, despite my… pale inclinations. I rarely find myself speechless, but I’m at a loss on how to respond. Is he really asking me to do what I think he is?“Just so I’m sure I understand, the pixie said ‘get fucked’ and now you need somebody to…”He growls, frustrated that I’m making this difficult for him. But I can’t let myself get this even a little bit wrong.“‘Get fucked’ means get fucked, Baz. It means I need you to do that to me.”---After an unfortunate run in with a pixie, Simon finds himself in an extremely intimate and mortifying kind of trouble. Who else could he possibly turn to other than his lifelong enemy/roommate?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 22
Kudos: 361





	Grin and Bear It

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of ridiculous, but I wrote it and edited it, so here you go, have roughly 8000 words of Simon and Baz doin' it because... pixie hexes, I guess.
> 
> Some content warnings: there are graphic depictions of sex, and Simon's sort of forced to have said sex due to the afore mentioned pixie hex, so if either of those things are a problem for you, please don't read this. Otherwise, enjoy.

**BAZ**

It’s late when Snow gets home. Well past midnight. He’s been gone for two nights already, and it was seeming likely that he’d be gone a third. 

It happens sometimes, him being away like this. The Mage pulls him out for “missions” at least once or twice a year. I don’t know the details of what he does while he’s away. I’m the last person he’d ever tell. But I can only assume it always involves some type of danger, judging by how often he’s come back bloody or bruised. 

He’s in a right state tonight. His jumper’s torn, and there’s a cut on his cheek dripping blood down his face. I hate it. I want to fuss over him, to make sure he’s alright, to tend to his wounds, to lick him clean. 

I settle for a barbed comment instead.

“Have a fun time, Snow?” The words come out laced with sarcasm. Harsh, I know. It’s my default way of speaking to him, which is a habit I regret more often than not these days. The terrible thing is it’s not even him I’m cross with. I hate these ridiculous missions he goes on, and I hate the Mage even more for sending him, without a second thought for his safety. Yet it’s Snow who inevitably receives the brunt force of my displeasure.

“Nice to see you too, Baz,” he replies, rummaging through his drawer for fresh clothes. His voice is strained, like he’s in pain, but he still manages to match my sarcastic tone in his reply. 

Pyjamas in hand, he stalks to the bathroom and locks the door without another glance my way. The shower’s running a moment later. I feel a bit lost, listening to the white noise coming through the door.

I’m not quite sure what to do with myself, now that he’s home. I wish I could say I hadn’t been waiting up for him. Hadn’t been hoping he’d come back alive and save me from another sleepless night in bed. But it would be a lie. I know I ought to simply turn in, but he seems like he’s in a bad way, and I just… need to be sure that he’s alright.

I’m still sitting on my bed, lost in thought, when he emerges. He’s shirtless and flush from the shower, and his bronze curls are fluffed up on end from his towel. It’s a good look on him. But then again, I think everything is a good look on him.

He looks better. He’s scrubbed the dirt and blood away, and there’s a small plaster over the cut on his face. But there’s something that still seems off. He’s moving stiffly towards his bed, like he’s trying to move through some type of pain. There’s no obvious sign of injury, but that doesn’t stave off my worry. It could be something bad, a magickal or internal injury hidden deep inside of him.

He crawls under his covers and turns away from me, effectively shutting me out. I’m not sure what else I expected, how else this could have gone. I suppose there’s nothing for it but to magic off the light and try to drift into sleep. A difficult task, when your mind is chock full of worry. 

Snow’s not making it any easier. He keeps rustling beside me, as if he can’t quite manage to get comfortable. It gets worse, the longer we lie there in the dark. He’s squirming every few seconds, and I hear his breathing pick up. He lets out shallow, heavy breaths, and then a whimper I’m sure he didn’t mean for me to hear. It’s too much. I can’t just ignore it.

“Are you dying, then?” I ask, voice sharp, into the dark.

“I— I don’t know.” His voice is taut, like he can hardly get the words out. Not an unusual state of affairs when it comes to Snow, bumbling idiot that he is. But there’s a hint of something else there, something desperate, that makes my hair stand on end.

“Jesus. Fuck,” he continues, after a moment, swearing like the chavvy Normal that he is. “I think I’m in trouble.”

“What sort?” I try to keep my voice even as I ask him. I’m not sure I succeed. 

“I feel like I’m going mental. There was a pixie. He did something to me.” He pauses to let out a deep groan before continuing. “I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“What did he do, then?”

“A spell or something. I don’t bloody know. But I’m losing my mind over here. Crowley, Baz. I think I need help.”

**SIMON**

I can’t believe I’m thinking about asking Baz to do this. It’s mortifying. But something’s got to be done, and I’m not seeing a lot of other options. 

I’ve been trying to hold it together all night. It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a tingle, really. But it’s getting worse, and I honestly think I’ll go mad soon if I don’t do something about it. I don’t mean that figuratively. I really and truly feel like I’ll lose my mind to this thing.

I can’t believe it’s even a real spell. _**‘Get fucked.’**_ The pixie spat it at me right before I knocked him out. I felt the power in his words, but I thought it was just because he was well and truly angry. I didn’t realize he was spelling me at the time. I didn’t even know pixies could spell like that. 

I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was me. I was worked up at the time, and touching him when he said it, and my magic has a way of muddling things up. It wouldn’t be the first time I managed to make a spell out of nothing. 

None of that really matters, though. All that matters is what’s happening to me right now. And what’s happening is that I desperately, desperately need to get fucked. Literally. Just like the pixie told me to. 

It’s embarrassing. I’ve never even considered doing something like this before. But it’s all I can think about right now. I feel feverish and I can’t get comfortable, and I can’t get the thought of going through with it out of my mind. I’m not sure what will happen to me if I don’t give in.

**BAZ**

“Pixies don’t spell,” I tell him. I can hear the ice in my own voice, but Simon Snow is begging me for help and I need to do something to keep control of the situation. And pixies _don’t_ spell. They’re _magickal_ , but they don’t _speak_ magic. The closest they come are compulsion hexes, and they can only do that when they’re desperate.

“He said something to me. And now I feel like I’ll lose my mind if I don’t do what he said.” Oh. Well then. I suppose Snow managed to make that pixie very desperate indeed. Merlin and Morgana, this is very bad.

“A Compulsion, then. We learned about them in fourth year, Snow.”

“Huh. Is there a way to reverse it?” he asks me, voice small but tinged with hope. 

“Not that I know of.” 

“Oh.”

“It will drive you mad, if you resist.”

“I know. I can feel it.”

“Whatever it is, you might have to do it.”

He lets out a deep groan then, desperate and guttural.

“Bloody hell.” He sounds terrible. “Alright. I suppose I have no choice then. I’ll… need your help.” 

“How?” I won’t tell him that it doesn’t matter how he answers me, that I would give him almost anything he asked for. 

“It’s just that it’s sort of a two-man operation.”

“What exactly did he say to you, Snow?”

“He said…” He pauses for a moment, in the dark. I can smell the tension coming off of him from his bed across the way. “He said _‘get fucked.’_ ” 

Oh. _Oh_. Aleister Crowley. This can’t be real. 

“What?”

“You heard me. I know it’s a lot to ask, Baz.”

I’m glad the room is dark, and that Snow is tucked safely into his bed, away from me. Because I’m sure I’m flushing beet red, despite my… pale inclinations. I rarely find myself speechless, but I’m at a loss on how to respond. Is he really asking me to do what I think he is?

“Just so I’m sure I understand, the pixie said _‘get fucked’_ and now you need somebody to…”

He growls, frustrated that I’m making this difficult for him. But I can’t let myself get this even a little bit wrong.

“ _‘Get fucked’_ means get fucked, Baz. It means I need _you_ to _do that_ to me.”

“Are you sure? I mean, of all people, you’re asking me?”

He’s silent for a moment before replying.

“Who else could I ask?” There’s something in his voice. Something sincere. Like he means it. Not just because I’m here right now, but because… Well, I can’t let my mind go there.

This doesn’t make sense. I feel out of body. I can’t believe we’re here right now, that Snow is begging me to bugger him. That his life literally depends on it. Out of all the ways I’ve ever fantasized about making love to Simon Snow, not once did I imagine it going like this. 

I’m not sure that I’ll be able to survive this. If I do it, he’ll know, and then he’ll hate me even more. Because I’ll have been the one he had to do this with. Because he’ll see through me and understand what a sick fool I am. I hate this, but I meant it when I said I would do anything for him. I don’t really have a choice.

“Alright, then,” I say, and send out a silent prayer into the night that this won’t completely shatter me.

**SIMON**

I hear Baz slip out of bed and then rummage around in his drawer for something. I moan impatiently. It’s one of probably a thousand things I’ll hate myself for come morning, but right now, I’m just desperate for him to come closer. The need for this has been growing stronger inside of me all night, and now that he’s agreed, it’s all focused on him.

I can’t believe this is about to happen. I can’t believe this is about to happen _with Baz._ I just hope he’s not too cruel about it. 

I’m not sure why he agreed to help me. He could just leave me here to fall apart, and beat me once and for all in our petty war without even having to lift a finger. I’m not sure why I _asked_ for his help. It just felt like the right thing to do, which makes no sense, except that it does. 

He comes closer, and sits down on the edge of my bed. I’m lying on my stomach, facing away from him, but I can still sense his uneasiness over what we’re about to do.

He whispers a spell, **_‘a gentle glow’_** , and a dim, pink light fills the room. There’s something comforting about it. I definitely wasn’t expecting mood lighting from Baz. 

“Is the light alright?” he asks, and his voice sounds soft in a way I’ve never heard before. Almost like he’s nervous. But Baz Pitch is never nervous.

“It’s good,” I whisper back. 

“I thought I had a rubber. But I couldn’t find it. Do you—?”

“I don’t. But I’ve never...”

“Me neither.”

Well. It didn’t even occur to me that this might be Baz’s first time. He’s so accomplished at everything. I just sort of assumed he'd be accomplished at this as well, like he crawled out of the womb a master of sex or something. I know I should feel bad, that I’m taking away something special from him, but I feel comforted instead. At least we’ll both be fumbling through this. 

“How do you want to do this?” he asks, in that same soft voice.

I’m still facing away from him, and I’m glad for it, because I have no idea how to answer him, and I think it would hurt right now to have to look him in the face and tell him that. The truth is, I don’t want to do this at all. Except that I also do, and I feel like such a mess about it.

“Can I, um, just stay like this for a while?” I think it will be easier if I don’t have to look.

“Whatever you want.”

And then I feel his hand on the small of my back, strong and cold. It makes me shiver a little, but it’s grounding. The hand feels confident, even if his voice doesn’t, and I’m glad, because I have no idea what I’m doing. He rubs circles across my back, and it sends tingles running up my spine.

“Is this ok?” he asks. And it is ok. I’m surprised by how little I mind it. How little I mind that it’s Baz touching me. He’s being kind for the first time in his entire life, and I can’t help but wish that he would be like this with me always. His hand feels nice on my back, and it makes the need in me feel sharper.

“Yes. It's good.”

He explores my back with his strong hands, and I try to relax into the feeling. To just be in the moment, and not think about anything but the way Baz’s cold hands feel on my body, and how it means I’m getting closer to having this over and done with. His hands move lower, and he hooks his thumb on the waistband of my trackies.

“Can I pull these off?” he asks. 

I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel scared when I say yes. 

**BAZ**

I help Snow pull his trousers over his bum, then watch as he frantically kicks them down his legs. They get caught on his big toe as he unceremoniously kicks them over the foot of the bed. It should be funny. But I’m depraved, and I just find it sexy. 

His legs stretch out in front of me, thick and pale and speckled with freckles and coarse, auburn hair. My eyes trace them up to his bum, still covered in pants, round and full where it blooms from the tops of thighs. 

I feel a bit like a lech, if I’m honest, ogling him like this while I’m still in my pyjamas. I’m overdressed and trying to decide if it’s appropriate for me to discard my clothing as well. I wish he would look at me, but he’s just lying there, head turned stubbornly away. It makes me feel powerful and small all at once. 

I suppose there’s nothing for it. My clothes will have to go eventually, at least my bottoms, and I would feel ridiculous if I kept my shirt on. Even still, I can’t help the way my hands shake as I unbutton my pyjamas and toss them aside. 

I kneel back up beside him when I’m down to just my pants, and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m basically naked in bed with Snow. This is just a job, a necessary deed to save the Chosen One. My feelings for him are inconsequential.

Still, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the broad swaths of his naked skin. He looks delicious, and I can’t tell if it’s the vampire or boy in me that wants to eat him up. He’s covered in moles and freckles, and I want to lick each one, draw connect-the-dot pictures across his back. But I’m not sure if he’d like that. I don’t think it would be entirely appropriate for the kind of engagement we’re about to have.

I bring my hand back down to his back instead, right at the waistband of his pants. His skin is so warm, and so, so soft. I wasn’t expecting to enjoy such simple skin to skin contact this much. The hand is for him, to get him used to my presence, so the way it fans my desire for him has me feeling upended. It feels too good, and I can’t stop myself from letting my hands roam across his body. I explore his back, his bum, his legs. The flesh of his inner thighs is surprisingly plush, considering the hard swells of his calves and his quadriceps. I suppose this is where all that butter goes. I could make a jab about it, but I don’t, because it feels lovely. 

He ruts a bit against the bed when I get near his arse, reminding me of the urgency of what we’re doing. It makes me feel guilty. I shouldn’t be enjoying myself while he’s trapped in this situation. We’re supposed to be enemies, and he’d never be here doing this with me if he had a choice in the matter. 

I don’t want this to be terrible for him. I’m not quite sure how to manage that, but I’ll do what I can. So I keep touching him, focusing on his bum, squeezing in a way that I think would feel nice. When I feel brave enough, I let my fingers catch against the edge of his pants. 

“Can we take them off?” I ask. It’s embarrassing the way my voice catches as I say it. 

“Yes.” It comes out breathy, like he’s desperate for this too. I suppose he is, but in an entirely different way.

He helps me pull them down his legs and off his feet. And then Simon Snow is starkers in bed beside me, laid out like a feast. His naked arse is lovely. I run a finger down its gentle slope and squeeze, eliciting a moan from him. It fills me with a deep, hungry need.

“I’m going to do something now. It might be a little cold,” I tell him, before grabbing my wand and muttering a **_‘slippery slope’_ ** towards his bum. He yelps a bit when it lands on his skin.

I run my hand through the slick liquid, spreading it across the pale skin of his cheeks and up onto his lower back. It’s not technically necessary, the way I’m rubbing it around like this, but I can’t help running my hands over him. The way his soft skin glistens in the dim light is enchanting. I let my fingers dig into him a bit, to try and ease out his tension and make him feel nice. 

I decide to cast the spell again for good measure once I’ve spread the first bit around. I have no experience, but I don’t think it’s possible to have too much. As I do, I let my thumb graze the valley of his arse. 

“Mph,” I hear him mumble. It sounds like a good noise, so I keep going, deeper towards that dark crevice. I let my hand slip in, and run my fingers up and down his crack. It’s warm and moist and a bit furry, and touching it makes something unfurl in my stomach. I’m touching Snow’s most intimate parts. There’s no going back.

**SIMON**

This is so strange. So, so strange. Baz Pitch has his fingers in my arse crack. _I’ve_ never even had my fingers in my crack, at least not sexually. I’m glad I’ve just showered. I don't want it to be unpleasant for him. Somehow, for reasons I don’t quite understand, it's important to me what Baz thinks. 

He keeps sliding his fingers over my hole, again and again, applying a little pressure each time. Then one of them snags on me a little, and I can’t help but moan. Crowley, that’s embarrassing. But I just need it so badly. 

I’m glad Baz has taken charge because I’m a mess and I would never have known to ask him to do this. To take his time getting me ready. I don’t know how he knows what to do, but I’m grateful. He keeps going, letting that finger catch again and again, and then he prods into me.

 _Merlin_. I don’t think he’s gone very deep, maybe just to his first knuckle, but it feels like it’s already met some of that burning need inside of me. Deep relief washes through me. It feels so nice, like a cold shower after a hot day. His finger’s still inside me, and that feels sort of nice too. He’s not trying to push it in any further, just moving it around a little, helping me adjust. It makes me feel tingly and warm. 

I feel him slip out and mutter again, and then there’s more cold slickness and his finger is back pushing into me, a little deeper this time. There’s resistance as he burrows in and I groan against it. I want it, because of the spell or Compulsion or whatever, but it’s uncomfortable. 

“Are you ok?” he asks, and if I didn’t know any better I’d think that Baz Pitch genuinely gives a shit about my wellbeing. But it doesn’t matter whether I’m ok or not. This needs to happen regardless.

“Just keep going,” I tell him, and try to remind myself of how nice I was feeling a moment before.

He slides his finger in a little deeper, and my body resists it even more. If this is just a finger, how is it going to feel when it’s the real thing? He seems to sense it, the way I tense, because he pauses, and pulls back out before slipping in again. It’s exactly what I needed and I didn’t think I’d ever feel grateful to Baz about anything. But I am. He’s being so attentive of me. It’s not surprising, really, because he’s always watching. I just didn’t know that could be a good thing. 

I suppose this could be going a lot worse, since I went and asked the person who hates me the most in the world to be the one to do this. Typical for me, really. I tend to just blunder into things and hope for the best. It works out, somehow, most of the time. I mean, I would probably be dead by now if it didn’t. 

Merlin, my mind is racing. I take a deep breath and try to shut it off. Try to return to my body. Just me and Baz. My bum and his finger. It's strange and intense, but not terrible. Almost good. Almost sexy.

He slides his finger in again, and I shudder. I'm beginning to relax around the invasion. To almost welcome it. It's just so intense. The feeling of it blooms out from my arse to the rest of my body. 

He's sliding in and out smoothly now. There's no resistance, just an uncomfortable feeling that is slowly morphing into pleasure. I feel a stirring in my knob, and it's a relief. I haven't really been hard since this ordeal started, but it seems now like that might change. I might even enjoy this. Will Baz hold it against me if I do?

I’m jolted from my thoughts by a second finger, sneaking in beside the first one. It’s a lot. Almost too much. But it’s necessary, so I grit my teeth and try to welcome it. 

Somewhere along the way, Baz stretched out on the bed up alongside me. His face is inches away from my ear. My face is still turned away from him, but I can feel his breaths pant out heavily against my neck. His breathing is laboured, and I find myself falling into sync with him. For a while, there’s nothing but our heavy breaths, panting to the rhythm of his fingers drilling in and out of my arse.

I guess he's sort of into this, too. The knowledge of that does something to me. Baz Pitch is getting off on having his fingers in my bum. I did this to him. Turned him into the panting mess stretched out beside me. He's sort of humping into the mattress and my hip, all hungry fingering and frantic breaths. 

It's a good sign, I suppose. He'll need to be hard for what's coming. I hadn't really thought about that before, whether he'd even be able to do what I asked him to. I was so focused on my own need that I didn't consider anything else. I don’t think I have anything to worry about, though.

 _Crowley_ , we're so close to each other. This feels so intimate in a way I didn't expect. Our breaths are mingling together and we're moving in rhythm. I'm bucking back into him as he fingers me. And _oh—_ it feels nice. So different from wanking, so much more needy. I’ll kill him if he stops. 

I let out a deep moan, and I'd feel embarrassed, but it seems to key Baz up even further. That's good. I want him keyed up. 

I think I'm ready now. As ready as I’ll ever be. Both fingers are sliding in and out easily. It’s so intense, but it makes me want it, makes me want more. I don't have the words to tell him, so I buck back against him even farther and let a deep, guttural _‘_ _fuck’_ escape my lips. 

He reads it right. Of course he does. He's so bloody capable, the tosser. He lets his finger slide out and unglues himself from my side. I hardly have time to miss his body before he crawls back behind me, sits down on my thighs, grabs hold of my hips, and tugs. 

It leaves my arse titled up and back towards him, locked in place by his strong legs. I feel utterly exposed, and it sends shame creeping up my back. I hope Baz isn’t disgusted by what he sees. 

I don’t have to worry for long. He runs his hands over my bum and squeezes. 

“Merlin, you arse is perfect,” he says, with a tone in his voice I don’t think I’ve ever heard before.

**BAZ**

I shouldn’t have said that. What an utterly stupid thing to have said. I’m completely drunk on Snow’s naked body, and completely losing control over myself. When we first started this, I’d had the foolish hope that I could somehow manage to stay clinical and detached. That I could go through the mechanics and keep my walls intact.

I should take back all of the times I’ve called Snow thick, because that is truly the most moronic thing I’ve ever heard. 

His arse is laid out before me on a platter. It’s a thing of poetry. Juicy and pert, all pleasing curves and pale, smooth skin. It’s the only part of him completely devoid of freckles, and it looks almost obscene contrasted against the rest of him. I can see the swell of his scrotum and the dark pucker of his hole. It’s breathtaking. The most decadently beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

There’s no way I can hold back. Not when he’s right here, willing, almost begging for it. This may just be for tonight. I may hate myself in the morning. But I’m going to let myself have it. Completely. I don’t think I can go halfway with this. I never thought I’d have this, and now that I do, I have no choice but to dive in. It’s precious, and I’ll share it all with Snow, because he deserves every bit of it. 

I know he’s been trapped into this situation, and I can’t imagine what’s going through his head. I hate it, but I want to do everything I can to make it better for him. For once in my life, I’m actually going to _try_ to make it better. 

I bring my hands back onto him as gently as possible. I trace my finger up his crack, and appreciate the way he twitches with the contact. He seems to like it. He ruts back against me a little when my fingertip arrives at his rim, so I know it’s ok to continue.

Watching my finger disappear inside of him is mesmerizing. I couldn’t really see it before, when I was lying down beside him. The new vantage point makes my dick swell even harder. I feel so powerful, like I could do anything to him and he’d let me. Like he’d enjoy anything I do. It’s a heady feeling, one I’m going to do my best not to take advantage of. 

I grasp around the bed for my wand and point it at the top of his crevice before uttering another **_‘slippery slope’_** **.** I watch the thick, clear liquid drip down his crack towards his hole, then trace its path with my fingers and push it inside. He feels so warm and wet around my finger, and the thought of getting my cock inside of him is driving me mad. I can tell he wants it too from the way he ruts back up to meet me with every stroke.

I spell out more lube and rub it all over myself, then slide up against him. We both sigh at the contact. His body feels so warm against mine. It’s pure, divine luxury. 

I nudge my dick against the cleft of his arse, then nudge it towards his hole. I press in, but his body doesn’t want to give. Everything’s so slippery, and I lose purchase and slip down between his legs. I fit so well there, between his thighs, grazing against his bollocks. I can’t help but rut up through the tunnel his legs make a few times. _Merlin_ , I didn’t know anything could feel this good. It’s like we’re fucking already. He’s pushing back to meet me. I feel like I could come right now.

I retreat. It's difficult, but there's a task at hand. I can’t let us go this far only to tumble over the edge too early. Pitches don’t fail. For once in my life, I’m thankful for years of practised self-control. I can do this for him. I take a deep breath and slide back up his crack towards his hole. 

**SIMON**

I’m not sure he’s going to fit. It feels impossible. I almost started crying when he slipped away a moment ago. I’m glad I managed to keep it together. The last thing I need is for Baz Pitch to see me cry because I’m so desperate for his dick. But I need it. I really do.

“Keep your bum up,” he whispers, and he grabs my hips up and holds them into place. This feels better. I’m strangely comforted by Baz knowing what to do. It’s like he’s taking care of me. I like the idea of him doing that.

I try and relax and push out to meet him, and then suddenly he slips inside me. I can’t help the loud groan that escapes my body. I’d be lying if I said it felt good. He starts to pull out immediately, but I don’t want him to. If he backs out, I’m not sure I’ll want him to do it again.

“Wait!” I cry. “Just… let me get used to it for a minute.”

He holds himself in place, and slowly I start to feel myself relax around him. After a moment, he starts to move, just a little bit, in and out.

“Is this ok?” he asks, and he sounds so gentle. So unlike the Baz I’ve known half my life. 

“Ya. Just keep going.”

And then he begins to slide deeper inside of me, a millimeter at a time. It’s so intense, but I grit my teeth and try to bear it. He’s whispering in my ear now, and I’m not sure when he started, but it helps.

“You’re doing so well. That’s it. Just a little more. You’re being so good for me. That’s it. You’re so brave. You can do it.”

There’s something heady about the way his gentle encouragements roll into my ear, mixed in with his breath, stretched around his posh accent. I feel utterly under Baz’s control. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on. And, well, that’s something I never would have expected. I sort of want to do this for him, as much as I want it for myself.

He keeps nudging forward, deeper and deeper, until suddenly he’s as deep as he can go. Crowley. It’s uncomfortable, but that’s fading, and starting to turn into something good. 

“Just hold still a moment,” I beg him. And he does. I feel the weight of his cool legs and torso pressed against me. It feels nice against my sweaty skin. Perfect, almost. The discomfort is rapidly disappearing, quickly being replaced with a deep, needy desire.

“Ok.” I tell him. “Keep going.”

**BAZ**

I’m deep inside Simon Snow. He’s warm and soft and pliant for me. It’s heaven. It’s excruciating. I’ve been on the edge since before I even got inside of him. It feels so good, I’m hardly thinking straight. I pull back and slide into him again. I think I’m ruined for anything else for the rest of my life.

**SIMON**

I think I almost like this. My body’s relenting. The resistance is almost gone. The deep need from the Compulsion is dissolving, being replaced with another, more immediate form of desire. One that comes just from me. 

**BAZ**

Crowley, this is so good. Too good. I’m drowning in Simon Snow. His smokey-sweet smell. His freckles. His curls. He’s everywhere. I’m surrounded. I’m completely lost. I’m—

**SIMON**

I feel him tense. Feel him shudder. Feel him get bigger and pulse inside of me. Shit. Is that really it? 

**BAZ**

I’m a disappointment to the Pitch name. 

**SIMON**

He slides out of me and kneels back. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Empty, maybe. I think the Compulsion is gone. But I want more. Baz might be finished, but I’m not. It feels unfair. It was just starting to feel nice, and now it’s over. 

The silence is beginning to feel awkward. I really don’t want to face him, but I feel sticky and I can’t lie here forever. I should get up, maybe go take another shower. I begin to push myself off the bed, but I feel his hand again, cold and sure, on my bum.

“We’re not done here, Snow.”

“But didn’t you just—?”

“I just need a moment.”

**BAZ**

If Simon Snow thinks we’re done here, he’s mental. I won’t let it end like this. I would never be able to look at him again. I may never be able to, anyways. But the least I can do is make him orgasm as well. Then at least we’ll be on even footing. Or something.

I trace a finger down his arse and prod gently at his hole. It welcomes me in, so soft and warm. I feel a stirring in my cock. Yes, we’re certainly not done here.

“Do you want to turn over?” I ask him. I’m not sure where I find the courage, but I haven’t seen his face since we started and suddenly I can’t stand it any longer. 

**SIMON**

_‘Do I want to turn over?’_ Merlin. Do I? I’m not sure if I can face Baz like this. But his hand feels so nice on me, and he’s turned this awful thing into something else, so if he wants me to turn over, maybe I can do that for him. 

It helps a bit that he just came inside of me in a matter of seconds. Like he’s a little bit less than perfect. It makes me feel like we match. I suppose I do sort of want to see him. So without thinking about it too much, I flip over onto my back.

**BAZ**

I thought Snow’s backside was perfection, but seeing him from the front is something else entirely. A flush spreads down from his face and across his chest. His bronze curls are tousled and stuck to his head with sweat. And his cock. Well. It’s a little soft, but still full, and it lies heavily against his stomach. It’s pink and meaty, like the rest of him. 

He’s biting his lip, and his eyes are downcast, like he’s scared to meet my eye. I don’t like that Simon is frightened of me. I want him to see me, to see that I won’t hurt him.

**SIMON**

“Hey, Simon, it’s ok,” he says, and he runs a cool hand up my tummy. He called me _Simon_. He told me it’s ok. It’s enough to make me look up and finally take in Baz’s face.

He’s staring back at me with wide, steely grey eyes. They’re so intense, so full of emotion in a way I’ve never seen before. I can’t look away. I want to stare at Baz Pitch forever.

His hair’s pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he’s all pale, perfect skin and sharp, shapely lines. He towers above me, breathing hard, drinking me in. He’s beautiful. It clicks into focus in my mind, like the idea’s always been there and I’m just now recognizing what it is. Baz Pitch is beautiful. 

**BAZ**

The angle’s all wrong like this, so I grab a pillow and slip it under Simon’s hips. It feels like a useful thing to do. I’m glad I can feel useful. My hands are shaking. Looking into Simon’s face like that made me unravel. 

I have a perfect view with his hips tilted back from where I sit, kneeling between his legs. His knees are splayed, putting his arse and his cock on full display. He grows harder as I watch.

“You want to keep going, ya?” I ask, running my hands up and down his thighs. His skin feels so soft and warm. It’s so nice. I will never get enough of this.

I don’t know where his head is. If the Compulsion is gone. If we’ve done it. I suppose I should give him a chance to back out. I don’t want to stop. I’ll never want to stop. But I don’t want to do anything unless he does, too.

“Ya, let’s keep going,” he whispers. I think he might be a little embarrassed, but I’m delighted. I want him to know.

“Ok. Good. I want that too.”

I slip my fingers inside of him again, because I can. Because I want to feel if he’s still ready for me. He is. His body welcomes me like I belong there. He whimpers a bit, and fucks himself back onto my fingers a little. It’s enough to make me go completely stiff again. I line myself back up, and slide back inside of him again in one smooth stroke.

**SIMON**

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better sight than Baz above me, naked, trapped between my thighs. He’s staring back down at me, like I matter. It blows my mind a little bit.

He slides out a bit, and pistons back in, and I moan. A little smile plays across his lips when I do.

“Feel good?” he asks. 

“Sod off.”

He pistons back into me, harder this time, and he’s such a git because it makes me moan all over again. 

“Yes, Snow. I think you like it.” I’d hate him for that if he wasn’t smiling at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz smile like this before. Beautiful, genuine. He looks so soft and open, and it does something to me. I pull him down, closer to me, so I can reach him. I trace my thumb along his bottom lip. I have to touch that smile.

I used to go to Baz’s football matches, and stare at him as he made his way up and down the pitch. I’d feel something curl up inside my belly as I watched. He was always so graceful, so athletic, so unlike my bumbling self. I thought that feeling in my stomach was disdain. I hated how much of a posh, perfect bellend he was. But looking up at him now, at his smooth, cut stomach, at the way his muscles tense as he slides in and out of me, I’m beginning to think that feeling was something else entirely.

He looks so good like this. I want to keep him here forever. I’m beginning to feel like maybe we should have been doing this all along. Why did I ever fight with Baz? This feels so much better than fighting.

**BAZ**

Snow is moaning like a madman below me now. It makes me giddy to know I’m making him feel so good. He must be enjoying this. He wouldn’t be moaning like that if he wasn't. 

We’re so close. His face is inches from mine. His breath comes out in soft little puffs and my nostrils are full of his smell. He smells so good. Apples and cinnamon and woodsmoke. I want to taste him. It’s a deep, dark desire in me, and it makes me nervous. Simon Snow is not a meal for me to eat. 

I push myself vertical, to remove the temptation. It doesn’t help much. I have a full view of his face now, of his parted, pouty mouth, and I want to sink my teeth into every inch of him. Or maybe I just want to kiss him. My instincts are all muddled up with each other right now. I’m almost out of control. Everything feels too good, and I’m lost in a cloud of Simon, Simon, Simon.

 _Focus, Baz._ I’ve always been a task-oriented person, and I have a goal right now. I want to make Snow come, to make him feel good, to somehow make up for what he’s been through tonight. I think he’s close. He’s pulling at himself and moaning loudly. Just a bit more and I’ll have him.

**SIMON**

Baz is hitting something deep inside of over and over again, and it makes me see stars every time he does. I don’t know what that is, but Crowley I’m dying. Or maybe I’m really alive for the first time. 

I’m a mess. I couldn’t be quiet if I tried. My legs are spread wide and I’m practically begging him to go as deep as he can. There’s no hiding how into this I am. I want to come so badly. I’m so close. Just a bit more. Just a little deeper. There. There. Merlin, that’s it.

I feel myself explode in my hand. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. Baz keeps pumping into me as I do, coaxing every last bit of spunk out of me. 

When I’m done, he slides out and begins pulling at himself. It only takes a few tugs before he’s spilling his seed all over me. It lands on my belly, and I rub it in a bit, mixing it with my own. I’m completely spent. I let my head fall back and close my eyes.

A moment later, I hear Baz whisper **_‘clean as a whistle’_ ** and I feel the fire of his magic wash over me, removing all the evidence of what we’ve just done. It's hot, like I've been scalded, but also strangely pleasant. I normally hate it when other people spell me clean, but I don’t mind so much this time. I feel so dreamy and relaxed, and it’s nice that he wanted to take care of me like that. 

I want him close. I want to hold him. He’s still kneeling at my feet, and I can’t understand why he’s so far away. I look up, and he’s staring at me with a blank expression on his face. Like he’s about to retreat or turn back into the wanker he normally is. It’s so wrong, so I do what feels right and pull him back down beside me. 

**BAZ**

I feel stiff as Snow pulls me into him. I’m not sure what to expect or what to say to him, now that we’re done. But then he wraps his arms around me, and runs his hands down my back, and it makes all the questions start to fade away. 

His hands feel so nice, warm and steady on my body. It feels obvious. Maybe I don’t need to say anything. Maybe I can just touch him too. I surely must be allowed, with the way he’s touching me. 

I let my hand find his chest and run it across him. He pulls me closer, and our legs slot together. It feels perfect. Miles and miles of skin, open for me to explore. 

He knocks his forehead against mine, just gently, so we’re face to face. We stay like that for a moment, just breathing each other in. I want to kiss him. It would be so lovely to just kiss him right now. But I’m not sure that’s a line he’d let me cross. After everything, I’m still not sure.

But then suddenly I am, because he moves his head, just a little, and brings his lips to mine _._ It’s soft and small and perfect, and I know I’m going to cock this all up, so I keep my mouth shut and let my hands do the talking, running gently up and down his warm body.

“Hey,” he whispers, and he slides his hand over my cheek, making me look him in the eye.

“Hi,” I whisper back, and then, after a moment: “Are you ok?” Because really, that’s the most important thing.

“Yes. It’s… I’m good now.” 

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re ok.” His face softens when I say it. He looks so open and vulnerable, and I can’t help but kiss him again. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks, and I know I should say no. I should preserve the last hard parts of my heart, should pull away from him, should begin the impossible task of rebuilding my walls. But he feels so nice in my arms, and he’s asking me to stay, and I would give Simon Snow anything he asks for.

**SIMON**

The sun’s a bright yellow when I open my eyes. I’m sure we’ve missed breakfast. Maybe our first lecture, even. Although I’m not quite sure what day it is. Maybe it’s the weekend. I don’t care either way. I’m exhausted after everything I’ve been through in the past few days, and bed is the only place I want to be. 

Baz, on the other hand, will be hacked off about missing class. He’s still here, in my bed, snoring gently in my arms. He looks so peaceful like this, face smoothed out by sleep, free from any of the masks he normally wears. It makes me unbearably happy that he’s here. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like everything slotted into place last night. He’s always driven me mental, but I think I might finally have him exactly where I want him.

Still, though. I don’t want him to wake up angry with me, and he will be if I muck up his classwork. I know Baz. School’s always come first for him.

I suppose I should wake him, although that tends to make him angry too. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do. I wish I could stay in this moment forever. 

I run my hands gently up and down his back. He feels cool, even cocooned in blankets, and I find that I'm already used to it, the way he runs cold. Always so cold. I know what it means, but I don't mind. I like having my hands on him. His skin is soft and perfect under my palms.

The contact makes him stir a little. He snuffles and burrows in closer to me. It’s adorable. And Merlin, I suppose I find Baz adorable now. I let my fingers play a bit with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s soft and silky, just like I always thought it would be. I’m not sure when I’ve thought about that before, but I know that I have.

He stirs again, and then I pinpoint the exact moment he comes to, because he freezes, suddenly aware of where he is. I think maybe he’s panicking, and I can’t have that. I’m not sure I can handle Baz pushing me away. I’m sure he thinks this feels nice, too.

“Good morning,” I whisper, and let my hands run up and down his back again. I feel him melt under my touch. He rolls away a bit, just enough that he can look me in the eye. His eyes are beautiful up close, deep water grey, flecked through with greens and blues. I’m not sure how I never noticed them before.

He’s staring at me, and he looks scared. But his fingers are brushing gently against the bare skin of my back, and I take that as a sign. Before he can pull away, I lean in and gently brush my lips against his.

“Crowley, Snow, morning breath,” he says, but he can’t hide the smile on lips, so I take it in stride.

“You like it, though, don’t you.”

“Not all of us are foul brutes,” he says, but he’s smiling again. I’ve got him.

“Of course not, you posh git.” 

I can’t help it. I kiss him again, and he kisses me back, morning breath and all.

“I think we might be missing class or something,” I say, when we’ve pulled away from each other again. “We should probably get up.”

“It’s Saturday, Snow.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s just stay in bed forever, then. I’m dead tired.”

“That's a terrible plan.”

But doesn’t get up. Instead, he pulls me closer and wraps me in his arms.

“This feels really nice,” I whisper, after a moment. “You like it too, ya?”

“Yes, Simon. I do.” 

I suppose we have a lot to talk about. What this means. Whether this could ever work. We’ve been so cruel to each other, and we’re on opposite sides of a war, and there are so many giant, horrible things looming over us. But everything feels so uncomplicated and easy in this moment. It somehow makes sense, me and him, lying here together, and for the first time in a long time, I feel calm. I’m not sure what will happen, but I think if I can manage to keep Baz in my arms, everything will be alright.


End file.
